The Small Things
by Ani-maniac494
Summary: When Gandalf the Grey met Bilbo the halfling boy, the future of Middle Earth changed forever. Hobbit movie-verse, one-shot.


Spoilers: Major spoilers for the Hobbit movies.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit but I do have student loans to pay off, so please don't sue. You won't get much.

A/N: This is a birthday fic for my dear friend and sister in Christ, **ladygris**. I hope you have wonderful day, **ladygris**! :)

As always, I thank my Lord Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace and his many blessings. I would be utterly lost without him.

I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think!

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 **The Small Things **

" _Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves in the woods…who would stay out late and come home after dark trailing mud and twigs and fireflies." -Gandalf, speaking with Bilbo in the Shire._

* * *

Gandalf could not say what it was that had drawn him to Belladonna Baggins's - née Took's - home. Or perhaps he could, but he simply didn't wish to admit it, for admitting it meant letting his mind linger on the dreadful specter his dreams had conjured the night before.

A dream. A dream that may not have been a dream at all, but a premonition.

Gandalf sighed and took another draw from his pipe, staring into the flames now roaring in the hearth. Its warmth, however, seemed unable to reach him. It was as though the cold had settled deep in his bones this night, a cold that not even Belladonna Took's hospitality could chase away.

The hobbit-woman had taken one look at him and ushered him into the kitchen, feeding him a hearty stew and some freshly baked bread. She seemed to know that something was troubling him, because she hadn't left his side until the sun had begun to set behind the hills. Only then had she gone out to coax her young son inside for the evening.

Master Bungo, Belladonna's husband, had seemed a bit uncertain of his wife's guest, but he had been welcoming enough. Nonetheless, Gandalf had never been a great enjoyer of small talk, and he'd been somewhat relieved when the hobbit had excused himself as well, slipping into his study and leaving Gandalf alone.

Of course, with nothing to distract him, the Wizard found his thoughts straying once more to the dark figure haunting his mind. The figure's face had been hidden in shadow, but Gandalf had sensed an evil so great that it was nearly a physical thing.

And its eyes…its eyes were…

Green.

Gandalf blinked.

The figure's eyes hadn't been green, but the ones staring up at him now certainly were.

They belonged to a very small hobbit who didn't even reach Gandalf's knee. He looked like his mother about the nose and chin, though he had his father's brow. That brow was wrinkled thoughtfully, the stray twigs and leaves in his brown hair at odds with the serious expression of scrutiny he wore.

"You must be Bilbo," Gandalf greeted.

The little hobbit gave a nod. "Uh-huh. And you're Mummy's friend."

"That I am."

"Is that your hat?" the boy asked, pointing to the hat which lay on the table at Gandalf's elbow.

"It is."

"It looks funny," he declared.

Gandalf blinked again at the pronouncement, his lips curling into a smile almost against his will. "On the contrary, I think it is a very great hat."

Bilbo's mouth scrunched up as he considered that, then he shook his head. "It looks funny," he insisted again.

"Well, young one, you're entitled to your opinion."

Silence fell, and Gandalf took a few puffs of his pipe, but he could still sense young Bilbo's stare.

"Is there something I can help you with, Master Bilbo?" he asked at last, his voice a little wry.

"Mummy says you're sad."

Gandalf drew back slightly, surprised that Belladonna had told her son about his dour state, but perhaps she'd wanted Bilbo to know that her guest may not be in the mood for company - and rather forthright company at that.

The Wizard nodded in acknowledgement. "Your mother's right."

The young hobbit tilted his head, revealing a smudge of dirt by his nose and another by his mouth. The dirt was the same shade as the muddy footprints marking his path from the door.

"Why are you sad?"

"I suppose…I am afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"The future."

"That's a silly thing to be afraid of."

Spoken like one whose seasons upon the earth had been few.

"Why do you say that?"

"'Cause you can't know what will happen in the future. Why be afraid before you have to?"

"Hm," Gandalf agreed. Wise words for one so young. And yet… "What if you could know? What if you were given a glimpse of a dark future? What then?"

The moment the question was posed, he realized that it was not the question a child ought to answer. Why burden the boy? Gandalf opened his mouth to assure Bilbo that he needn't mind the ramblings of a tired old man, but the young hobbit spoke before he could.

"That's easy. I'd look forward to the morning. Morning always comes after the dark, you know. There's plenty of light then."

This time it was Gandalf's turn to stare. In the course of his long life, few things had managed to shock the Wizard, but this young hobbit had done it.

Look forward to the morning. It was such a simple thing.

 _And yet_ , Gandalf found himself thinking again. _And yet..._ for all that, boy was right.

The night could be dark and perilous indeed, but light was meant to triumph over darkness, and when the sun rose, no shadow could stand against it.

He could plan for the darkness, yes, and prepare to face it, most certainly, but dread itself might become an enemy if he allowed it to linger. And he would not. He would look forward to the morning…to the rising of the sun when the darkness fled, because even if his dream were, in fact, a premonition, all hope was not lost. The darkness would not win in the end. A new day would dawn eventually…and perhaps, just perhaps, this boy would be a part of it.

A smile began to form on Gandalf's lips, but it must have been hidden by his beard because Bilbo still seemed to feel that he was in need of some cheer.

The young hobbit reached into his pocket suddenly and fished around for a moment, his tongue stuck into his cheek in concentration.

"Here," he said at last, holding out his hand, something clenched in his fist.

Gandalf reached out a hand in return and opened his palm obligingly. A rock dropped into it a moment later.

"I found it in the forest today, when I was looking for Elves," Bilbo explained. "I was gonna put it in my window, but you need it more. It's not an emerald - I asked Mummy - but it's green an' it's pretty."

"Indeed it is," Gandalf agreed, turning the rock this way and that, admiring how it shone in the light of the fire. "Thank you, Bilbo."

"Feel better?"

"Yes. Very much so."

The little hobbit beamed, apparently proud to have succeeded in his self-appointed mission. Or _was it_ self-appointed?

The Wizard turned from the hearth to find Belladonna standing in the hallway, watching them. The blush that colored her cheeks when their eyes met didn't dim the proud gleam in her own gaze.

"Come, Bilbo," she announced, "it's time for a bath."

The little hobbit's shoulders slumped as he turned to face her. "But Mummy, I want to catch some fireflies!"

"Not tonight, my sweet. It's late. The fireflies will still be there tomorrow."

"But not the same ones!"

"Really? How do you know?"

"I just do!"

Gandalf's smile grew, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.

Bilbo's protests continued as Belladonna led him from the room, already beginning to pluck the leaves and twigs from his hair.

When the little hobbit was bathed and fed and in bed at last, a quiet night passed, one gratefully undisturbed by dreams or premonitions. And in the morning, when the sun rose over the Shire, Gandalf left the hobbit hole with a lighter heart and a heavier pocket, the green rock bumping against his thigh as he walked.

* * *

" _Mithrandir? Why the halfling?"_

" _I do not know. Saruman believes that it is only a great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid and he gives me courage." -Gandalf, speaking with Galadriel in Imladris._

 **Fin**

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know what you think!

Take care and God bless!

Ani-maniac494 :)


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